


How Close Is Close Enough

by pique



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: FC Barcelona, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pique/pseuds/pique
Summary: Everything he does is because he cares for Leo. Yet Leo will never comprehend the depths of his affection, can never know how much Luis dreams of intensifying their intimacy.
Relationships: Lionel Messi/Luis Suárez
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	How Close Is Close Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).

> For [Messifangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever). Probably the softest, most romantic thing I've ever written. This has changed so much since you read that first draft, but I hope you like it. 
> 
> Thank you to [Jackdaws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaws/pseuds/Jackdaws) for betaing and helping me overhaul this into what it eventually became.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://piquemos.tumblr.com).

Luis is here every day after training, like clockwork. As summer turns to autumn, as autumn turns to winter, nothing changes. He is here because he cannot keep away.

Flames rise steadily from the cast-iron stove, heat radiating towards Luis as he stirs the rice and watches as it simmers in the pan. He rechecks the meat; let it cook for too long, and it will lose its tenderness; don’t cook it enough, and it will be too rare. Luis painstakingly prepares Leo’s favourite dishes several times a week, rendering his nutritionists and personal chefs redundant. Leo’s kitchen – Leo’s _house_ – has become Luis’ own.

He watches, transfixed as Leo slides his fork through the last morsel of steak and brings it to his mouth.

“_Muy bien, Gordo_,” Leo says, his voice soft, mellow. He leans back in his chair, yawns and stretches out his arms. “Fantastic food.”

His words tame Luis’ restless mind, allowing him to breathe more easily. Everything he does is because he cares for Leo. Yet Leo will never comprehend the depths of his affection, can never know how much Luis dreams of intensifying their intimacy.

“Have you got any strawberries?” Leo asks with a lazy, indulgent smile.

They exchange glances, and the kitchen fills with the sound of their relaxed laughter, like music to Luis’ ears.

“Eh, strawberries are all sugar and water,” Luis teases, throwing his arms into the air dramatically. “I always tell you this.”

“But I like them.”

Luis lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’d do anything for you,” he says quietly.

Leo blinks slowly and stares down at the table. His cheeks are rosy, his smile shy and sweet. “I know you would,” he replies, steadily looking up to make eye contact.

Luis replays the moment in his head like a movie for the rest of the week.

~

Luis listens to the smooth purring of the Range Rover’s engine, and to Leo, gently humming the melody of some Cumbia song. Leo leans over and drinks from Luis’ mate gourd, his lips pink as he sucks on the metal straw. Despite himself, Luis is unable to stop laughing.

“You never drink from your own,” he says, pouting.

“Reaching yours is easier,” Leo replies. “Besides, I’m trying to keep my eyes on the road.”

Luis fixes his eyes on Leo. Entranced, he finds he’s unable to look away. He barely registers the vehicle drawing to a halt as they arrive at the _Ciutat Esportiva_.

Leo undoes his seatbelt and grabs his washbag, eager as ever to be one of the first players to get inside. He opens the car door and turns to Luis, furrowing his brow, a mystified expression on his face.

“What are we waiting for, _Gordo_?”

Luis remains frozen, transfixed.

“Hey!” Leo prods him on the shoulder. “What are you daydreaming about?”

Luis jumps in his seat, startled. He feels painfully self-conscious after zoning out.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Leo asks.

“Yes.”

“You would tell me if you weren’t?”

Leo rubs the spot where Luis’ neck meets the top of his back. Luis can feel Leo’s touch radiating through every nerve ending in his body; it’s electric, intoxicating. It leaves him aching for more.

Luis manages a nod. He wants to tell Leo everything; he just doesn’t know how.

~  
  


There’s been an ache in Luis’ chest ever since he and Leo parted ways for international break. He feels odd out here on his own; he’s unsettled, anchorless. Luis tries to rationalise his thoughts – it’s like they’re at different summer camps during the holidays. Soon, everything will be back to normal, and they’ll both be home again.

He obsessively checks and rechecks his messages and WhatsApp. Sometimes, Leo even sends him an email, so Luis checks that too. Nothing, zero, zilch, zip, nada. These minutes spent alone in his hotel room seem to last for a lifetime.

His mood lifts as soon as his phone rings.

“Leo, how are you?”

“Good, _Gordo_, what about you?”

“Very well.” Luis takes a deep breath and hesitates before asking. “How’s Kun?”

“He’s asleep. I think he already got tired of talking to me.” Leo laughs softly. “How’s Edinson?”

“Edi is fine.” Luis grins, a shiver of excitement running through his body. Could it be that they’re each being possessive over the other? He longs to believe Leo is worried about what he might be getting up to while they’re apart.

Leo clears his throat on the other end of the line.

“At least you’ll have me back on Monday for the match in Tel Aviv, eh?” Luis says.

“Don’t forget to save your shirt for me,” Leo replies, and Luis can vividly picture him smiling as he says the words.

“I don’t know,” he teases. “What if I get a better offer?”

He hears Leo laugh lightly, and pictures his shy, slightly flustered face.

“You’d better not,” Leo says.

Luis grins because he knows he won’t. There is no one better than Leo, and he treasures all his mementos from their time together.

_I miss you_; he wants to say. _I’m counting down the seconds until I see you again._

But he doesn’t because he’s scared of pushing Leo away.

~

Luis’ knee starts to hurt more after the Argentina match. He tries to work through the pain; to pretend there isn’t an issue, but by the time he returns to Barcelona, Luis practically begs the physio to give him a painkilling injection.

The doctor talks about doing another surgery. Luis wants to grit it out until May. They tell him that if he so much as falls awkwardly in his backyard at home, he could wind up doing serious damage.

All his hopes and dreams for the season are hanging by a thread.

He feels like an idiot as he sneaks into the bathroom at the _Estadio Municipal de Butarque_. Luis looks over his shoulder to make sure there’s no one else around before closing the door behind him. Once he’s pushed the lock into place, he covers his knee in magic spray, praying its numbing effects will come on quickly. He slides a support bandage over his knee and hastily pulls up his tracksuit bottoms. It takes all his strength not to limp back to the dressing room.

“Thank God we had you with us out there today,” Leo says as Luis sits down next to him.

Luis’ heart sinks. It hasn’t been the easiest campaign so far, not by Barça’s high standards. It’s hard to see Leo frustrated by not having found the back of the net against Leganes.

“I wouldn’t have scored without your assist,” Luis reminds him.

Leo reaches over and rests a hand on Luis’ shoulder. Luis wants to touch him back and to comfort him, even though their teammates surround them. He needs to reach into his bag and search for his painkillers, but he daren’t. Luis swallows hard and stares at the floor, silently urging his knee to stop its angry throb.

He hates his body for being weak and for failing him when he needs to be at his best. He hates the thought of watching Leo play through more than half of the season while he waits on the sidelines.

~

“It’s just a knock,” he tells Leo as he leaves the pitch.

As soon as he’s in the back lying on a doctor’s couch, Luis crumbles. He’s drifting somewhere between anger and sadness, scared of slipping into despair. It’s bad enough they’ve been knocked out of the _Supercopa_ by Atlético, worse still that he isn’t in the dressing room with his teammates, trying to rally their spirits.

Luis feels beyond useless.

Leo enters the room, his face pale and ashen. His eyes fix on Luis in a way they never have before. Luis isn’t sure how to read him – is it guilt, is it sympathy?

Suddenly, he understands.

“Someone’s told you how bad it is,” Luis says.

“I asked the doctor.” Leo steps closer. “I’m sorry, but I needed to know. I’d pretty much figured it out anyway.”

Luis’ heart feels like it’s shrinking. No one at the club dare lie to Leo, he supposes.

“I know you’ve been in a lot of pain and that you’ve been trying to hide it from me.” Leo bites his lip. “So, what now?”

“An MRI, then surgery.” Luis’ voice cracks. “I’ll get it done in the next few days if I can.”

“_Gordo_…”

Luis finds himself unable to speak. He’s been here before, so many times. Every injury is harder than the last, a stark reminder of time passing him by so quickly. His future at Barcelona, and with Leo, hangs in the balance. It is terrifying; exasperating.

Leo reaches over and pulls Luis into a hug. He allows himself to be held and buries his head on Leo’s shoulder. Leo grips him tightly, one hand moving up and down his back. They stay like that for a minute or so, Luis breathing in the scent of Leo’s musky shower gel. He never wants to let go; never wants to be separated from Leo again.

Seconds after Leo releases him, their gazes lock. Leo cups his chin and leans in, brushing his lips against Luis’. He can barely believe it; his heart pounds violently.

“Do you want me to stop?” Leo asks.

“No.” Luis shakes his head. “Never.”

He kisses Leo back softly, then more hungrily, his hand resting gently on the side of Leo’s neck. Leo’s beard rubs against his skin, but Luis doesn’t care, he just wants more of him. When they finally break for air, they both smile, resting lazily against each other.

Luis had rehearsed speeches in his head, a thousand times or more. He’d agonised over his feelings for Leo, wondering if they’d ever be more than friends.

It’s funny, he thinks, that in the end, none of his words are necessary.

~

“You don’t need to do this,” Luis says. “I’m not an invalid; I can cook for us.”

“I _want_ to do this. I want to do something nice for you,” Leo replies.

Luis smiles and feels his cheeks flush red. His right leg rests on a cushioned stool by Leo’s kitchen table, his knee still heavily bandaged, his pain only just starting to subside.

Tall, angry flames erupt from the cast-iron stove, causing Leo to jump back from it hastily. Luis’ eyes widen, and his heart skips a beat.

“My God. Why didn’t we hire a chef?” he asks.

Leo flashes him a stern, determined glare. Luis’ stomach flutters at the sight of him getting sassy. Leo refers to the recipe on his phone again for the hundredth time that afternoon. He adjusts the settings on the stove and grabs the bag of meat.

“I promise,” he says, laying the meat out on the grill, “I won’t poison you.”

Luis grins and opens the bottle of wine.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic follows the 2019-20 season and is heavily influenced by Matchday. Specific matches mentioned are:
> 
> Uruguay vs. Argentina in Tel Aviv, 18th November 2019  
Leganes vs Barcelona, 23rd November 2019  
Barcelona vs. Atletico Madrid, 9th January 2020 - Luis had surgery on his knee soon after this match.


End file.
